We Were the Clock Hands at Midnight
by CaffeineChic
Summary: She slapped him


She slapped him. "Oh Gods, I..." A tremor of shock at her own actions rumbled through her body. She felt it rise from her feet and shake up through the length of her body uncoiling out into her hands, her fingers twitching . She stared at them in disbelief. The potential force of the blow had been weakened by cancer and poison but that did not alter the fact that she had still struck him, still lashed out against his words. Instinct. Repudiation of his statement.

Lee's fingers touched his cheek, the skin stinging slightly, equally as stunned that she had actually hit him.

She re-coiled herself. Spiraled herself in tight. She drew deep steadying breaths as she pinned Lee in place with a glare. "Don't you...your father, Gods Lee." How could he even think that about Bill? Bill Adama. The man who had let his home become hers, become theirs, the man who sat with her through cancer treatments, drowning out the sound of her blood being poisoned with the soothing tone of his voice. The man who gave her everything everything everything that he had and asked only that she lived in return .

Bill Adama who feared her death more than his own but who walked with her with every step that she was forced to take toward it. She knew that accepting she would most likely die had been the hardest thing he had ever done, that he still railed and struggled against it, but he was always there, always always there. When she thought of how she would feel if it were she watching him die her stomach rolled and she was forced to bite back the bile that rose in her throat. She felt her arm twitch upwards and she drove down the urge to slap him again.

"This is his home, Lee. He has to live here after I've...I'm dying in his home and he never asks for anything for himself. Never." She shook her head. She scoffed at him, disgusted. How was this boy, this child, related to the man she...She thought back to that breakfast they had shared, how he had gifted them a book like small boy, how he was acting now like a spoilt one. "Don't speak about him like that, not to me." She looked away, turned from him. "He needs his family around him."

"With all due respect _Madam President_ you're not his family."

The anger that had been ebbing away returned with tidal force. She compelled herself to let the crest of it break over her before speaking. She refused to look at him as she spoke, her tone a facade of calm that she did not truly feel, her voice dangerously low. "I think you should leave now, Lee."

He stormed out. She sat at the table. For how long she didn't know. Staring unseeing, her knees pressed tight together, hands clenched in her lap. She heard the marine guard greet him seconds before he came through the hatch. He was barely in the room before she had her arms around him , hugging him to her as hard as she could manage. Her rage had drained away, taking its fury filled energy with it. She was so tired.

She felt him lose balance slightly, a half step taken back as his arms encircled her waist. He softly laughed a "Hey", tossing the report he had been carrying to the desk. She shuddered, holding back a sob. "What's wrong?" no longer laughing, his grip tightening around her instantly.

She leaned back and took his face in her hands. Thumbs gently gently gently grazing his cheekbones , moving to caress his lips . She tugged him down to her, her lips replacing her thumbs as she kissed him, slowly, lovingly. For once she was glad that she that was still in her shoes, grateful she did not have to overcome those extra inches between them . She hadn't had time to kick them off before Lee had arrived, before...

She broke the kiss, collapsing into his shoulder, her cheek lost against the skin of his neck, pushing herself into him as close as was possible. "Thank you." (thanks _for_ you, thanks for _you_, thank you thank you thank you) He was silent, simply held her (he held her constantly, with more than his arms). She pulled back and met his gaze (tinted with a fear that she hated herself for placing there). Her voice was small but strong, the words a jumbled rush as she ran them out. "I slapped Lee. I...it was...I shouldn't have...I just...Gods, I'm sorry, Bill."

His barely blinked,

"What did he say?"

She wouldn't she wouldn't she wouldn't tell him. She would not give Lee's words a second voice. Words that should never have been spoken, and she would not repeat them. As angry as he had the right to be she feared he would be more so if he knew it was his son's words about _him_ that had caused her to snap. She feared he would think her foolish (he would never).

"No." She withdrew from his arms, wrapped her own around herself. "It doesn't matter now"

"It obviously mattered enough for you to slap him."

"Hmmm." She neither agreed nor disagreed, but looked at him, begging begging begging him with her silence to not make her speak. She did not know what he saw in her in that moment, in that flash in time, a woman coiled around herself who had volunteered the truth of the sin of striking of his son. But she knew that he saw...something.

His hand rose to her and she closed her eyes, seeing her own hand, seeing Lee. She felt him push away the sweep of her hair and cup the base of her neck, massaging it gently, pulling her back, pulling her to him, holding her (with his hands, with more than his hands).

"My son...can be an idiot sometimes."

She laughed without mirth, a sound to shatter the tension. "So can I." (your friend, your love, your family).

She apologized again (and again and again), with words, with silence, with hands finding his. She would fix things with Lee. She would she would she would. He needed his family around him.

She would give him everything everything everything, he would never have to ask.


End file.
